Hillwood Gardens
by SuperYellowSentai
Summary: Something is killing on an anniversary, until it breaks it's own tradition. Sam and Dean head to Hillwood to help save the locals from a local legend. Fem!Sam Casefic!
1. Chapter One

**(So before I begin, let me say this is a cross over. Supernatural will be the main focus however, with Hey Arnold only supplying supporting characters.)**

 **Chapter One**

Calloused hands pulled off the thick cut of beef from the weight and dropped the cut of meat onto a long section of wax paper. The butcher, a tall, wide man about thirty, chuckled warmly as he folded down the paper and sealed it off with a green slip of tape boasting _Green's Meat_. "Well Mr. Simmons. I certainly am surprised." Despite the butcher's almost scary appearance his voice was pitched pleasantly and his face was kind. "I don't think I've seen you out quite this late before."

"Despite what you _kids_ think I am not actually an old man." The older man opposite the butcher from the counter, let out a soft laugh after the endearment. "I promised Peter I'd make dinner and actually I am running a little late." Mr. Simmons glanced nervously out the window at the darkening sky.

"Well, one thing I can guarantee. It's going to be delicious with this cut of beef."

"Of course, Harold. This is the only place we come to get our meat." Mr. Simmons dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a weathered wallet held together with a rubber band. "How much do I owe you?"

Harold smirked and handed down the packaged meat. "On the house Mr. Simmons. Just promise that whatever you do, you make a good dinner for Pete."

"Why Harold, I couldn't-"

"Of course you can." Harold smirked and jerked his thumb towards the door. "Now hurry before your boyfriend panics and calls for the police. I'm quite certain you don't want the captain sending out Sid to find you."

Mr. Simmons clutched the meat and smiled back at his old student. When Harold had been a kid, he'd been a little aggressive and maybe a little dull, though each and every one of the fourth graders his first year teaching had been unique individuals with their own problems, now Harold had rounded out and become a pretty confident and kind man. "Why thank you Harold. I most certainly will be informing Peter. Expect a pie."

Harold sighed warmly and sank down on the counter. "Man, Pete makes the best pies."

"Oh, he knows. You've certainly told him enough times." Mr. Simmons headed towards the door and offered a polite _goodbye_ before exiting the building with a ding.

Harold watched the man exit the store and enter a battered green Toyota Corolla and drive off. He stayed leaned up against the counter fighting off the ache of his work day. It had been incredibly long. Harold straightened and smacked his counter for good measure. Well he certainly wasn't getting home and off his feet just standing there.

Thirty exhausting minutes later he had his cut meat in the cooler, the counters cleaned and the mats outside to drip dry until morning. He stepped out his own door with a ding and locked upGreen's Meats for the night. He slipped his keys then his hands in his pockets and headed out in the dark night down the two blocks to his building.

Buildings with familiar and old signs from his childhood still sat up in the same places that they'd been for years, and Harold wrinkled his nose at a few of the new installments. Like the Ben and Jerry's that had taken up _Vitello Flowers_ spot. Mrs. Vitello had died a few years back and the community mourned not only her but the shop that had been there all through the years. Harold still couldn't help but miss not only him but the old neighborhood and faces and how it had seemed much more magical when he had been a child.

Harold was so deep in thought he missed the start of the wrought iron fence barricading off the community's cemetery. It wasn't until he passed the sign reading _Hillwood Garden's Cemetary_ , now drooping slightly, that he noticed he was in front of it. The wind seemed to get a little colder, and Harold picked up his pace. He'd always been a little unsettled by the place, but to be honest who really felt comfortable passing, or entering a cemetery.

He'd nearly passed when he heard a haunting voice hum. He stopped and placed the tune as the Wedding March.

"Come on!" Harold raised and dropped his arms with a huff. "You have got to be kidding me. Look kid if you're trying to prank me, I'll pound ya!" Harold smirked and raised a thick fist resorting back to his old phrase hoping that if it was one of his friends pranking him, they'd show themselves. He knew the legend, his buddy Gerald had been only too kind to reaccount the story whenever they passed up the cemetery as kids. Then there was the petrifying night that they had been massively pranked while inside. "Look I get it, Ghost Bride." Harold continued walking keen on getting home. "But I am exhausted and ready to get off of my feet."

Either he wasn't worth it, or the kids had had their fun for the night, because the eerie humming of the Wedding March was slowly retreating back further into the cemetery. Harold muttered something about stupid kids under his breath, but let out the breath he'd held when he passed the iron gates of the cemetery. He passed by a closed pizza joint and made the sharp turn only to pause again. There was Mr. Simmon's car, engine and lights still going with the driver's door open.

"Mr. Simmons?!" Harold rushed his pace and poked his head inside the car. His package of meat remained in the passenger seat along with a few extra groceries probably intended to make a complete dinner. No Mr. Simmons. Harold straightened and looked around, fear piercing through him. "Mr. Simmons?!"

There was no one around, and only the familiar sounds of distance car alarms and rouge cats echoed in the night. Why had Mr. Simmons gotten out of the car? Where did he go off to in such a rush? Had he left willingly? Harold frowned. Crime was getting a little worse in the area. Had something happened to Mr. Simmons?

Harold dug into his pocket and fished out his phone. He didn't bother to dial 9-1-1, all he did was go through his contacts and select _Sid_. While his phone rang Harold continued to look around for any sign of his fourth grade teacher.

" _This better be good, Harold. Or I'm going to tell my son to run another baseball through your window. On purpose this time."_ Sid's sleepy voice came through the line irritation very clear in his tone.

"Listen Sid, this is an emergency. I found Mr. Simmons car, only the engine is still running and he's not in it. I don't see him anywhere." Harold noticed a hint of red near the start of an alley and started walking towards it.

He could hear the sound of rustled sheets and Sid telling his wife to go back to bed. _"Mr. Simmons?! What is he doing out so late?"_

"Sid!" Harold was next to panicking the closer he got the spot. As a butcher he was all too familiar with the smell and look of the red substance. He'd seen it a number of different shades from the animals he cut, and he was pretty confident that it was in fact blood. "Enough playing, there is blood."

" _Blood?"_ That really got his friend awake. _"Is it-?"_

"I don't know, Sid!" Harold started jogging, and called out again for the older man. He slowed down when he neared the entrance to the alley and almost reluctantly made the slow turn to face inside. "Crap! Sid, you have got to get here! Mr. Simmons he's-"

Harold choked off the last part as he bent over and released his lunch and his dinner from that day where he stood. Cutting into animals was one thing, but the blood and the body parts strewn in the alley was an entirely different horrifying scene.

xxxOOOxxx

"Chopped up?" Dean glanced over at his sister as she flicked the paper again to make sure it was ridged.

"To bits." Sam continued to read through the story flinching at a few of the details. "Coroner says it was an axe."

"What makes it ours?" Dean asked causally dialing down the radio. "I mean besides our usual playmates there are human psychos, and I wouldn't put this passed a person."

Sam jerked up an eyebrow. Since when did her brother question her _feeling_ about a case? "The man who found him, claims that he heard humming from the cemetery."

"And-?"

Sam's lips twisted down. "Okay, then listen to this. _This isn't the first death._ " She read the part dramatically, pausing to raise her head over the paper and catch her gaze with Dean. "There have been five deaths, male and female, black, white, even orange, spread out through the years all on the same day, August 5th. Everyone found was discovered _chopped up_."

"Okay, but it isn't August 5th…" Dean pointed out. "It's November."

"Which only means that whatever is doing this, is riled up and breaking tradition." Sam frowned. "Either way whatever it is will kill again Dean."

"Okay, I agree. We have a case." Dean glanced nervously at his sister. "You just got back on that leg of yours though, so don't overdo it."

Ah, so there it was. They had left Bobby's just two days ago, after resting up from dealing with a set of Tikbalangs, Demonic horse-men. The Trickster, apparently _not_ dead, had given them a thin sliver of information to go on about the case and of course they had suffered for it. After realizing that there had been in fact two, and the mane (sharp spines and not hair) wasn't just for show, but also for shooting. They'd ended up with Bobby bearing a massive headache for a few days, and Sam off her leg while she recovered from being speared. Dean had wanted to stay at Bobby's longer so his sister could rest, but Sam had gained a massive case of Cabin Fever and refused to stay a day longer.

"I planned on running a marathon though." Sam rolled her eyes and folded up the newspaper. She reached in the glove box digging around the array of maps that they had accumulated. She found the correct state, New York, and unfolded it spreading it across the dash. "From where we are now." Sam hummed in thought as her finger trailed the veins of highways searching for their current location versus where they needed to be. "It'll be about a six hour drive."

Dean glanced outside at the darkening sky and flinched a little. He'd been driving for a most of the day, and he didn't think he could do another six hours without sleep. Some of his concern must have read on his face because Sam quickly studied her brother and buried herself back into the map.

"I am exhausted though, and we'll be passing a town soon. If you don't mind I can sleep a little, and maybe hit up the library and get some information before we continue." She turned her head to follow a wooden billboard sitting low to the ground as it passed. "Oh, and that sign totally boasts that this diner has the best pie in the state. Also just in the town up."

Dean smirked and drummed on the steering wheel in excitement. "Who can say no to pie?"

It took another thirty minutes for them to enter the town and rent a room. Sam slipped out while Dean showered and got something to-go from the Roadside Diner. Although not needed Dean felt compelled to remind Sam _not to forget the pie_. His little sister simply rolled her eyes and ignored the statement. As if she could forget the pie.

When Dean came out of the shower he slipped on a sweats and one of his worn band shirts. He set to dismantling the weapons and cleaning them. He lost all track of time as he focused all of his attention on cleaning he didn't focus on the time passing until he heard his stomach rumble. Dean glanced up at the cat themed clock and frowned at the time. It was nine. Sam had been gone two hours. It certainly didn't take that long to get dinner, even if she had opted on hoofing it the entire way there and back.

Weapons forgotten Dean pushed out of the hard backed chair and scooped up his phone. He sped dialed his sister and pressed the phone to his ear verbally urging Sam to pick up. After three rings, it went to her voicemail. Dean pressed 2 on his phone again and started the call as he scooped up his boots. Rather than sit down to pull them on and lace them up he hopped on each individual foot while he applied and tied the shoe. All the while he listened to her phone ring repeatedly until it went once again to her voicemail. He jerked on his jacket and pocketed his phone and the keys to the motel room before running out and locking the door behind him.

His big brother senses were tingling, and they were rarely wrong. When he neared the corner on the street he'd seen the diner, not even a block away from the motel, Dean first noticed the swirling of red and blue lights first. Shit! He picked up the pace and his jog turned into a run. Turning the corner he saw two police cruisers, and an ambulance parked in front of the Roadside Diner. He only slowed his pace to a stumbling walk when he was a few feet from the police cars.

One of the guys in blue tried to push Dean back when he surged forward through the crowd collecting around the small diner and into the building. Dean stabbed a finger into the man's chest and growled. "Look, I think my sister may be in there." The guy regarded him, but didn't say anything. Figuring that he had his attention Dean continued. "Sam, Samantha Jones." The officer didn't say anything and Dean felt a growl rumble in his throat again. "Well?!"

The officer still didn't move.

"Look, all I want to know is if she's okay or not." Dean felt his heart clench at the man's silence. Was she on her way to the hospital right now? Was she- no she's fine. Dean couldn't go down that route of thought. He just couldn't.

"Inside." The officer's face still didn't move but he shifted to the side letting Dean push through.

Dean only heard the officer call to his friend when the second cop keeping a hold of the crowd shouted at him but didn't stop to thank him. He surged up the single step and had the little door ding open. "Sammy!"

"Dean?!"

His head turned to the left and he found Sam sitting on one of the stools at the counter while one of the EMT's fussed over a split cheek that seemed to have stopped bleeding. The red and blue of the lights filtered through the thin slits of the closed shades as Dean closed the distance between him and Sam. Out of his peripheral vision Dean noticed a woman sit up from the booth. He had been so intent on his sister he'd not noticed the three cops hovering over the staff taking their statements.

The officer caught his arm and turned him to face her. "Who are you, and how did you get in?"

"Look lady." Dean jerked his arm out. "I'm her-" he poked his finger at his little sister, "-big brother, and one of your officers let me in. Now do you really want to stand between us or do I have to fight you off?"

"Dean! Stop it!" Sam pushed the EMT's probing fingers away and slid off the stool, ignoring the man's angry order to stop moving.

The woman kept her gaze firmly on Dean. Dean wasn't intimidated though he matched her gaze. Slowly she lifted a walkie and spoke into it. "Hey Marcus."

" _Yeah?"_

"You let a guy through?"

There was a pregnant pause. _"Yeah, says he's Jones's brother."_

"Ok, thanks." She pocket the walkie and frowned. "Id?"

Dean fumbled with his wallet and pulled out his ID, sporting a cocky smile and the name Dean Jones. He waited impatiently while the detective studied it and passed it back to him in approval. "Fine," The woman moved out of the way, but kept her eyes firmly on him.

Dean surged forward taking his sister's face in his hands and turned her head in all directions grimacing at the bruises and the cut that sat on her left cheek. He ignored her protests as he probed her cheek then slid his thumb to the inflated left side of her lip. "You were just supposed to get dinner Sam! What the hell happened?"

"Place got held up." Sam pushed away her brother's hands. "I got smacked around a little but I'm okay."

The EMT impatiently pushed off of the chair and motioned Sam back over. "She was out for a few minutes, according to the waitress she tried stopping the armed robber." The man's tone held irritation at the brash action.

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean mirrored the EMT's anger as he steered his sister back to the chair and pushed her down. His mind scrambled as he tried to absorb the situation and take calming breaths. There were a thousand things that he wanted to tell her. He was grateful she was okay. "I called you, you never answered." Close enough.

"I was busy giving a statement and trying to avoid a ride to the hospital." Sam sighed and prepared to battle her brother in his big-brother-mode as well.

"She should go to the hospital." The EMT sounded insistent and frowned when Sam rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine. It's just a bruise." Sam brought a hand up to the cut. "You've cleaned it, and I appreciate that. It may look ugly for a little while, but it doesn't require a hospital."

"You should get checked out thought." The man brought the fight to her big brother locking eyes with him. "Like I said, when I showed up she was on the ground unconscious. I just want her to get looked at seeing as she did receive a head wound."

Dean took her face in his hands again, this time pulling at her eye lids and gauging her pupil's reactions. She wasn't acting too sluggish either. Dean knew his sister well enough to know that she wasn't concussed. "I won't force her to go now, she seems fine. However-" He raised his voice to overtake the EMT's. "However I will be watching her tonight, if I feel she needs it, we'll get her checked out at the hospital."

The man's lips pursed but he saw he could go no further with the fight.

"Trust me. When she was fourteen she took a hard kick to the head during a soccer game." Dean lied smoothly. It wasn't so much a soccer game, it was a hunt, but that wasn't something they offered so lightly. "We took her to the hospital and over the next few days my Dad and I watched over her. We've dealt with head injuries before."

The EMT nodded and packed up his medical supplies. He still seemed discontent with their answer but a little more relaxed now that she'd have someone to watch over her.

Meanwhile Dean met Sam's eyes and frowned. "You didn't get injured anywhere else?"

"I'm really fine, Dean." Sam sighed. For the last hour and half all she'd wanted to do was curl up on the crappy motel bed and sleep. Any thought of food had exited with the excitement. "I think I'll live to dance the tango again."

"Then what the hell were you thinking?" Dean bunched his hand into a fist and pounded her shoulder. "You know better than to take on someone with a gun." Given that he was sitting in a diner with a shit load of cops he didn't feel compelled to include _especially when you're not packing yourself._

Sam scowled at her brother. He'd calm down, but until then she'd have to deal with his protective side. "He was waving it around at everyone. There was a kid, Dean. He was about to take the boy away from his mother, I couldn't let them go through that."

Dean's sharp gaze softened. "Look, just be more careful. I know crazy follows you, but- but you have to also have to be okay at the end of the day. Without you I won't have anyone to gripe about my music as I drive."

"I'm sure someone would volunteer." Sam smirked. She slipped off the stool sure that the EMT and the cops were through with her. "Look, I'm tired. I just want to go back to the room and sleep."

"Hey!" Dean got the attention of everyone in the diner, but more importantly he caught the attention of the evident lead in the investigation, the woman who'd stopped him when he entered. "Is she all done, or you need anything else, lady?"

"No, we got her statement. Unless she'd like a ride to the hospital-" The serious cop finally broke a smile when both Sam and Dean spoke _no_ in unison. "Then she's free to go. I'd like to meet her for a follow up though."

"Can do." Dean nodded although both knew they'd be gone after getting some sleep.

"Wait." The cook, a portly man still wearing his grease stained apron slid out from the booth. "You came to get some food, the least we could do seeing as you helped us out is make you a few burgers."

Sam rose a hand to protest, but Dean's stomach spoke for them with a loud rumble. "Food would be good."

"And a pie." The waitress scooted out and went for the display rack behind the counter, still intact with cooled pies.

"A pie wouldn't hurt." Dean smiled broadly.

 **(So before any Hey Arnold fans start sharpening pitchforks and lighting torches, I am sorry I killed Mr. Simmons. As I was writing it out it was forming itself and he was the one who ended up dead. Love you though.)**


	2. Chapter Two

**(So I know I need to post something for Unforeseen Future, however everything that I am writing is not coming out right. I don't care to to post something that I dislike so I cannot put something out right now. Working on it I promise. However, I have made some headway on this one. For some reason I seem to have found the muse and and now can properly write this. So here you go!)**

 **Chapter Two**

Sam felt the eyes of her older brother linger on her. After a short conversation about the case the car ride had drifted to awkward silence. Awkward silence, where every so often Dean would look at her when he thought she wasn't aware. She blew out an irritated breath, jostling a strand of her hair. "You want to take a picture? That'll last longer."

"And not give me snappy comebacks." Dean deadpanned but he did turn back to the road. His eyes didn't focus though. He kept an image of Sam's colorful profile sharp and alive in his head. He knew since last night that her face would bruise but it just looked gnarly now.

Her lip had gone down after a pack of ice, but the cut and bruise combination on her left cheek still remained. The night before Dean had seen her skin start to purple, but now the vivid bruise just looked like an abstract painting. Yellow dotted the outside showing signs of healing, green ringed the dark purple center that resembled the wide frame of a pistol. Every time he glanced over at her and saw the weapons silhouette something boiled deep within him.

"So Mr. Simmon's is having a memorial today, so it's probably not the best to attack anyone with questions before or during the event. If there is a library in the city you can drop me off to do some research while you find a room." Sam didn't look over at her brother. She remained focused on the passing trees and cars, leaving dean to have the ideal view of her injury.

"Give people some time and ask afterwards; I'm good with that. What makes you think I'm letting you out of my sight however?" Dean scowled, not for the first time that drive.

Sam groaned and rubbed her hand on her face until she winced once it grazed her bruise. "I'm fine. I'm a big girl. I don't need 24 hour big bro security."

"Yeah you said that last night and got hit in the face with a gun. I mean besides damaging what was already a messed up face, you could have been fucking shot." Dean gripped the wheel tightly.

Sam looked put out. "Look, don't tell me that what I did was stupid, because while it was, that was something that you _and_ dad would have done were you in my shoes. We're hunters Dean. We protect people, and that is from other people if need be."

"We would have beaten the bad guy, not let him get the upper hand and knock us out." Dean burst. He regretted it the second she casted her eyes down and her lips thinned in irritation. It was clear he'd struck a cord. While she was smart, she was also the weakest fighter of the three. Didn't mean to count her out. In a fight she used her surroundings and her skill to the best of her ability. Dean and John just happened to have devoted more time and patience to the art, and found it easier. "I didn't mean-"

"I get it." Sam interrupted. Her lips thinned out more and made it clear though that everything was _not_ okay. "You were worried. I would be if you didn't come back in two hours with food, and ended up on the ground after a robbery. But look, I got the big brother speech last night. I'm going to try to be more careful; universe allowing."

"Universe isn't kind." Dean grunted.

"No it isn't. But I'm not hiding behind you." She rolled her eyes and leaned her forehead against the window effectively cutting off the bruise from his sight. "Partners...Remember."

"I seem to recall that conversation ending with I needed to see you safe too." Dean relaxed his grip. "But yes, partners. I'll drop you off at the library. When I find the room, I'll give you a call." _And check up on you_ , didn't quite make it in the sentence but it was implied. "Just make good choices while you're there."

"I don't know what kind of trouble I can get in a library, but sure it's duly noted. If some guy comes up and asks me if I can help him find his dog-" Sam made quotation marks with her fingers. "-I will not get in the car, even if he has candy."

"Good." Dean nodded sagely. "Not even if he has drugs."

Sam snorted and kept her face pressed against the glass. The cool window was alleviating some of the pain the headache was pounding out. They spent the remaining time with her very nearly psychic brother shoving a bottle of Tylenol and warm water at his sister and Sam not wanting to admit the pain. Finally, the battle was won when Sam took the tablets. She had to admit to herself she did feel better when the medication took effect.

Hillwood appeared in Sam's passenger window first, and the first thing to greet them was an Inn town motel. Dean drove past heading for the center of the city. Hillwood seemed to be a decent mash of the old and new. Many new shiny metallic buildings sat adjacent to small mom n' pop shops with signs that clearly originated at least twenty years. The further in they drove Sam couldn't help but notice that a few of the businesses (mainly the smaller, privately owned) sported closed signs and had all lights out. They passed by a building with a sign reading _Green's Meats_ and Sam noticed a familiar picture in the window.

"No wonder all the businesses are closed. The paper I read did say they would have a memorial for the guy." Sam rubbed at her chin thoughtfully.

"Hmmm?" Dean glanced over as he stopped at a light.

"The guy that died recently. When I read the paper, it did mention that he was pretty loved in the area. He's consistently won Teacher of the Year, even after he came out as gay." Sam glanced at a pastry shop that also promoted a closed sign and a blown up image of the man.

"He must have been awesome. Not everyone usually approves of those life choices." Dean stopped at a light and glanced over at his sister. "Have any clue where your _biblioteca_ is?"

"Pasamos por una senal diciendo que se trata de una milla de distancia." Sam linked her fingers and put her hands behind her head.

Dean didn't approve of the wide grin on her face. "Okay I know some words and key phrases, but calm down there Ricky Ricardo."

"Probably know enough to get yourself slapped." Sam smirked.

"Or laid." Dean wagged an eyebrow. "What does that translate to anyways?"

"I said we passed by a sign saying it's a mile away." Sam pointed. "Just follow those signs."

Sure enough he hit another sign and followed the arrows. And to be honest it wasn't hard to miss. It was a white brick building with two grand pillars at the entrance, around the place was an iron fence sporting little gargoyles on each support. He pulled up the emergency brake while Sam dug around for her small green messenger bag holding her computer and slipped out of the car.

"Stay safe. I'll call you when I find a place." Dean waved his phone, wait patiently until Sam dug out hers to show him she did in fact bring her phone along.

"Yeah, yeah, say no to drugs, I got it." Sam rolled her eyes and shut the door not even giving Dean a second glance as she headed up the stairs to the library.

Sam wasn't aware of the time passing until the phone in her back pocket buzzed. The large clock on the wall informed her that she had been burying her complete attention on research for the last two hours. Sam glanced around before slipping her hand into her pocket and dragging out her cell phone and answered the call.

"So you got us a room." Sam heard her brother shift around on the line. She maneuvered the mouse as she clicked on useful links.

" _Yeah. Dude, the bathroom is all_ fishy _. There even is starfish soap."_ Deans soundedhorrified at the décor of their latest room.

"Hey at least we don't have a bunch of creepy portraits of cats around the room." Sam gave a slight shudder as she recalled the Bed n' Breakfast they had stayed at in Maine. The room they had rented had pink walls, and poorly done paintings of cats. Sam could have sworn that the eyes followed her as she moved.

" _That certainly was one of our more interesting ones."_ She heard Dean shift around the bag of weapons. _"So, you getting anywhere, Sherlock?"_

Sam frowned as she read through Robert Simmon's obituary. "I have no leads, and any ideas I have are weak. So far six deaths, but as I mentioned before different races, genders, and careers. I have one guy who owned an ice cream truck, seemed pretty psychotic and mean, I think a total of ten showed up to his funeral. Then there's our recent guy, Robert Simmons. I think I'll stick in an application to get this guy into sainthood. Loved teacher, blood donor, gave money to charity, hosted a gift pick up for unfortunate families at Christmas, volunteered at the local animal and homeless shelter."

" _Geeze, guy reserved a special spot in heaven. His room is right next to Jesus himself."_

"That's the thing Dean. I don't know if he has skeletons in his closet. Were the people essentially chopped just random people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or did this _thing_ choose them for a specific reason. All I know for certain though is that the deaths occurred within a mile of the Hillwood Garden's Cemetary, and save the last one, it always occurred on August 5th."

" _Then the Cemetery is something to check out."_

"Hate to go in blind though." Sam bit at her lip. "We could always cruise by the latest scene, and see if we get EMF."

Dean remained quiet in thought. _"Good plan. We do have some time. Although, why don't you get the locations of every body found and we can check out each spot. Maybe ask around about local lore and see if we could get any more intel on what this could be."_ After Sam's last encounter with the armed gunman and countless situations they had run in blind Dean had to agree with her sentiment about going in prepared.

"Okay, no problem." Sam set to get the info. "I can meet you at the motel. What street is it-"

Dean cut her off quickly. _"I can pick you up."_ She could practically hear him tense. _"I don't want you walking too far on that leg."_

"If the motel isn't that too far away then I can-"

" _Pick you up in twenty, Sam."_ Dean's tone and immediate hang up ended all argument Sam had left in her.

Sam set to sketching out a small map of the city and marked each spot with a number. She went through the corresponding events and wrote down the details from the newspaper articles, and police reports. She printed up the last of the crime scene photos when a warm calloused hand landed on her shoulder.

"Jesus, you scared me." Sam put a hand to her heart, and took in a deep inhale.

"No need to be so formal. Awesome Big Bro Dean works as well." Dean smirked jerking the chair next to her out with his foot and sat down. "So you got everything? Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Let me pick up these at the printer." She stood up and walked over to the printer. She shifted through the papers and inspected each one before slipping the eagle eyed librarian a ten-dollar bill.

"Want change, hun?"

"Nope." Sam held fast to the pictures in her hand. She made the short distance back to her brother and shut down all the windows up on the screen and powered off the laptop. "Okay, I'm ready to go. I have pictures, descriptions, and locations." The computer and its cord made it back into the bag, while the photos were slipped between the sheets of the legal pad.

"Great. You certainly are the research queen." Dean scooped up her bag and shouldered it. He motioned Sam to the door. "So where are we headed first?"

xxxOOOxxx

They had started with the first death. A young, white male named Carl Williams. He'd been found intact with a few deep blows from an axe in 1979. Three years later, 1982 Karen Johnson a 50 year old black woman was found this time her arm clean off. Abel Adam's, a young black male, was found with the bloodshed escalated. In 1991 his arm and leg at the knee had been cut off. William (the hated Willie) Castellaneta, a Hispanic male was found missing three limbs. Only his right arm was found intact on the street just outside the cemetery in 2000. He was a few steps away from his ice cream truck. This year on the anniversary date, Maggie Gammelthrope was completely dismembered.

Each crime scene hadn't been pretty to revisit. Just the pictures alone made it something almost worrisome to look at. However, Mr. Simmon's scene took the cake. Not only had he been dismembered. The thing had taken the time to fling his limbs about the alley way. Chief Snell had gone through great pains to show exactly where each body part was found, including a leg that had ended up hooked on the ladder of a fire escape, and his hands in a dumpster. Whatever was behind this had escalated much further.

Dean snuck away to a corner, further away from the police while Sam walked through the scene with the forensic team. The force distracted, Dean pulled out his EMF device and switched it on flinching at the intense wailing it gave when it powered on. Dean let it continue for a minute before switching it on and off and pocketing the handmade machine. On his way back to his sister their eyes met and he gave a firm nod. It was a spirit for sure.

Rejoined they met up with the police chief again. They asked him questions about each scene and if they had any leads. The police chief claimed he didn't know who it was. He'd first seen Johnson's lobbed off arm in 1982 and was convinced they had some psycho who was murdering on an anniversary. However, the murder never left anything behind. No prints in the blood they'd spilled. They hadn't even pulled particulates from the injuries. An axe no matter where held would have some kind of trace…pollen, dirt, or even their own DNA. But there was nothing.

Chief Snell seemed pleased the FBI was finally taking a serious look into the related deaths. He offered all the files they had back at the station. Sam nodded politely and smiled, but she had already hacked into the system and taken what she needed.

"And all this time you've ruled out all your suspects?" Sam asked more knowingly.

"Every last one. Can't seem to peg this person…although." Chief Snell paused and shook his head more to himself.

"What is it? Anything will help, Chief." Dean prodded the man to release the information.

"Nothing. It's nothing." The look on the chiefs face didn't really read anything. Dean and Sam knew they'd get nothing from him at least not right now. Chief Snell glanced not for the first time curiously at Sam's face, and Sam sighed and put her hand up to the ugly bruise. "Perp?" He asked plainly and simply.

It was a ruse to change the subject but Sam allowed it. "Uh, yeah. He's been caught though. One last thing Chief Snell. I don't mean to sound insensitive but I need to know where the memorial service is being held for Mr. Simmons. Unfortunately, the further we wait-"

The chief looked a little off put that they were going to disturb his citizens so quickly after the memorial, but he knew that the longer they did wait the less chance they would find whoever did this. "Of course. I understand. He tugged out a folded paper from his pocket. It was a flyer that listed an address, a date, a time, and a picture; Mr. Simmon's picture. "Just don't push too much. He was loved by quite a few people in this city."

"We got it." Sam nodded.

xxxOOOxxx

Dean parked the car outside the church and slipped out. Sam straightened her black _FBI_ jacket before joining her brother at the foot of the church steps. The small crowd was leaving the church in a somber mood, half shuffling off down the street towards cars and homes, and the other half converging into small circles talking in low tones.

Sam didn't wait for Dean to lead. She met the closest little group and fingered her badge. A man about thirty, blond hair and understanding eyes caught sight of the suits first. His hand entangled with a blond woman's next to him.

"Jan Reeve and Mark Meade." Sam held up her badge and didn't need to look over at her brother to know he mirrored her. In unison both badges were folded and put in pockets. "FBI. I know that you still are grieving, but would it be okay if we asked you some questions?"

The blond female tensed, but her (assumed) husband placed a hand on her arm and gave her a firm look. She stilled and sighed standing down, letting her husband step forward. In fact, the whole group seemed content to let the man take control of the situation.

"Arnold Shortman." He studied the two, his gaze lingering on the bruising on the side of her face. For a second his eyes flitted towards Dean almost accusingly but they calmed. In a second he seemed to read that Dean hadn't been the cause. Who the hell was this guy? "We don't mind. If it helps you find whoever did this, we're happy to help."

"It's not a who." A portly man shoved through, the buttons on his nice button up straining.

The blond woman rolled her eyes. "Crimeny! Leave it alone, Harold. What you heard was impossible."

"As tactful as always, Helga." Harold narrowed his eyes at the woman. "And I swear I heard it."

"You're the one who found him?" Sam thought back to the article. "Harold Berman."

"Yeah." Harold scrubbed a hand along his chin and gave a long sigh. "It was- it was horrible. But it wasn't a person. At least not a live person."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked shoving his hands in his pocket.

"I heard her. I heard her humming that wedding tune. The one the brides walk down the aisle to." Harold nervously tugged at his hand. "Only it was inside the cemetery, and it sounded like she was going back inside."

Arnold rubbed the back of his abnormally wide head. "He means the wedding march."

"Which means, Arnoldo, that he is referring to _her_ her." Helga turned back to Harold after looking at each member of their group one by one and getting approval. "I'm sure you were just stressed. I mean we all loved Mr. Simmons. You don't want to lose faith in humanity, however, so who better to blame his death on than someone or something that isn't human. Well alive at least."

"I heard it, Helga. I know I did."

Sam cleared her throat bringing the attention back to herself. "Believable or not, we are open to any suggestions. All we want to find out is what happened to Mr. Simmons, and all the other victims it's taken."

A man with dark skin and a tall head of hair released the hand of his much smaller Asian wife, and stepped forward. "It's not possible though. As much as I want to support Harold…"

"Gerald-" Arnold scolded. "Helga, just let Harold talk. I'm sure the agents can decide what is useful and what isn't."

After a meaningful looked directed towards him Harold took a breath. "I heard her, I heard the Ghost Bride. Then I found Mr. Simmon's abandoned car and called Sid." He motioned to a man next to him with stringy hair and an almost comically long nose. "And I may have been tired and stressed but I swear I heard her awful humming."

"Who is the Ghost Bride." Dean asked starting to lose his patience.

"She's-" Helga started, but the man named Sid stopped her. He firmly shook his head Instead he gestured to Gerald. She made wrinkled up her nose and scoffed. "You have got to be kidding me, Sid. We are not in elementary school anymore."

"She's right." Gerald gave his friend a confused stare. "It doesn't really matter who tells it."

"She's not the holder of the story though. Only you are." Sid gripped.

Gerald notched up an eyebrow. "Technically I've passed down all those stories to Jacob. So do you want me to call over my nephew so he can tell them?"

"Look. Would someone just tell us who this woman is?" Dean had lost all patience now.

The gaze between the adults lingered between one another as they almost seemed to wordlessly fight. Finally, though with a sigh Gerald stepped forward. "I'm giving the cliff notes version. Okay, no spooky voice like I used to." Sid seemed to deflate. "Okay there was a woman, Cynthia Snell. She was madly in love with her fiancé, only when it came time to get married he never showed up. Later Cynthia found out that he had run off with her sister, and the day they were supposed to be married he instead married her sister. Later that night, Cynthia put on her wedding dress and grabbed an axe from the basement. She went over to the newlywed's home and murdered them in their sleep. When the police arrived they found her rocking herself in a rocking chair next to their bodies, humming the Wedding March. She committed suicide by jumping out the bedroom window so she couldn't be arrested. They buried her in her wedding gown at the cemetery, and supposedly, on the anniversary of her murder and suicide she rises from the grave looking for victims humming the Wedding March."

The small group broke into applause, while Dean and Sam remained stunned at their reaction.

"Good story. But that's all that is. It's just a story. We already proved it to be untrue. We spent the whole night in that cemetery on the anniversary and nothing happened. Just a few pranks." Helga crossed her arms.

"One of which was perpetrated by you." Arnold pointed out. He glanced over at the _Feds_. "We were ten. Wanted to see if it was real, but it was Helga in a wedding dress chasing us around. When we found out she wasn't the real woman in white it turned out that a second friend, put out that he wasn't invited, pranked us and had us lock ourselves into a mausoleum."

"Curly swears though…" Harold started.

"Curly is insane." Helga broke in.

Sam cleared her throat. "Curly swears…what?" They were certainly a handful.

"Curly was the one who pranked us second. Had us locked in that mausoleum and when we found out what he had done, we were all just a little angry. So we locked him inside for the night. When he got out he kept claiming that he heard her humming after we left, but we didn't stick around. We ran off the second we knew it was clear."

Dean looked a little skeptical. "How crazy is Curly though?"

"Certifiable." Scoffed Helga. "Belongs in a straight jacket and a padded white room. Moron painted himself up with tiger stripes and released all the animals in the zoo."

"I am not crazy though." Harold glared at Helga. "And I swear I heard her."

"You heard someone pranking you."

"She was real." Harold burst. "She's not just some legend. She once was alive and had killed her fiancé and sister."

"Once!" Helga scowled. Seemed to be a regular thing for her.

Sam broke the fight. "Okay. It's fine. Thank you, really." She offered Harold a warm smile and professionally flipped out a business card with her current name and number. "You see or hear anything else just feel free to call us. Anything you find out, we'll listen."

"Believable or not. Anything helps us solve this." Dean finished.

Harold gave a jerky nod.

"Same goes for any of you." Sam nodded politely. With that she spun and headed for the car, Dean hot on heels. She rested her hand on the roof of the car as Dean to walk around to the driver's side. She waited until Dean had his door open to open her own and slide into the car. "Well that was interesting."

"Yeah I mean, Ghost Bride with an axe…?!" Dean stuck the keys into the ignition and started the engine.

"It's worth a look. You did say we could look for local lore. That is- local lore." Sam scratched down the name of the woman in her legal pad.

"You got the name."

"Yeah, Cynthia Snell." She paused. "Isn't that the name of the police chief?"

"Come to think of it, yeah it is…" Dean put the car in drive and headed towards their motel room. "If she really exists, and her story is real, I wonder what kind of ties he has to her…"

 **(Hey you liked it. Leave a review.)**


	3. Chapter Three

**(Still don't have anything ready for 21 on Unforeseen Future...Lets just say I've got a lot going on right now and I think I may explode. After I'm finished moving I swear I'm sitting down in my apartment and doing nothing for a whole damn week!)**

 **Chapter Three**

A cloud of steam escaped as Dean stepped out of the bathroom only in his sweat bottoms, and a towel draped around his neck. He sat on the bed and started to towel dry his short hair while humming a tune sounding suspiciously like Metallica.

Sam turned from her lap top and glanced at her brother. "So, you save any hot water for me?" Sam knew the answer already. There was no way there would be hot water left for her. Both siblings knew he (or she) who showered first got the hot water.

"Probably not. But the pressure sucks anyways." Dean put the fish themed towel back around his neck. "So did you get anything on our ghostly bride?"

"Well he was correct. Cynthia Snell, committed suicide on August 5th, 1979 after brutally murdering her rouge fiancé and sister months after the newlyweds wedding. The police showed up after neighbors reported screaming coming from their home, and she was in fact next to their bodies humming."

"What is the Wedding March?" Dean grinned over at his sister. "I'll take classic rock for a thousand, Alex."

Sam scooped up a pamphlet from the desk and crumpled it. She tossed it at Dean, who ducked and the ball hit the wall and slid behind the headboard of the bed. "Okay smart ass. They were incorrect on a few of the details though. Cynthia Snell was not buried. She was in fact cremated. The wedding dress she wore the night of the murder was taken for evidence and was later stolen from lock up. The dress was never seen again."

"So she could be tied to the dress." Dean stated thoughtfully. "But why have all the deaths occurred around the cemetery then? Unless the dress is being held around the cemetery…"

"I don't know." Sam scrolled down a horror website devoted to the woman. "There was apparently a headstone made for the woman in 1985. Sat in the cemetery for two years before the city took the joke headstone down." Sam snickered as she read through the lines _etched_ on the stone. "Dude, people walked passed a gravestone reading 'Here lies Cynthia Snell she lived her life and went straight to hell' for two years. Never thought to take it down."

"Whoever came up with that deserves a medal." Dean shifted a pillow comfortably behind his back and leaning up against the headboard.

"I'll say." Sam reached the bottom of the site. "Besides that there is no known tie to the cemetery."

"Okay, let's say that it is Snell murdering all these people. Why go after- well everyone? I mean if I were a jilted bride I'd go after the bastard who looked the most like my lowlife fiance." Dean paused in thought. "Or maybe even the sister. I mean that was the kind of betrayal on her end as well."

Sam turned to her legal pad filled with the gruesome deaths and their details. "I don't know. All I got is that her fiance Derek Lloyd. White, blond hair and blue eyes. Her sister Catherine was white as well, brunette hair. None of our victims match that description. Unless it's just whatever unlucky person happens to be passing the night of August 5th…" She paused when she figured in the _unscheduled_ death. "Or whenever she feels like it." She exited out of the window on the screen. "Then they had a brother. Younger brother. Cynthia was 22, Cathy was 20, then they have Cody Snell. He was 12 at the time of the murder." She looked a little thoughtful at the notes she'd scribbled. "Actually, kid was born 1967, he would be about 39 years old right now. Approximate age of the police chief."

"So before another unscheduled death we should check with the chief." He glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed. "We can do that in the morning. Neither of us got very much sleep last night. And I for one would like the few hours we would get."

After a quick glanced towards the bathroom and a short debate in her head, Sam opted for Dean's plan. "Yeah. I was going to shower, but I'll save it for the morning. At least I'll get some hot water then."

They didn't get four hours though. They got seven. Dean woke up to sunlight filtering through the shades, and the sound of an ancient abused engine starting up just outside their window. He propped himself up on his elbows and glanced at the clock before groaning and burying his head into the pillow. "Sam." He raised his head to amplify the sound. "Sammy! We slept in."

"Mmmm…" Sam shifted in her bed and dragged the questionable comforter closer.

"Sam!" This time one of his pillows went sailing across the gap and landed bulls-eye on her face. "Get up. Ghost Bride, murders."

Whatever Sam responded with Dean couldn't figure, but if he deciphered her morning grumble the best he could he figured it was geared towards him, and it wasn't polite.

Dean groaned himself as he sat up and dangled his legs off the side of the bed. "Oh come on Stanford. Just like getting up for your smart kid classes."

The pillow he'd thrown at her was returned, but Dean caught it as it traveled back to him. Sam removed the arm she'd placed over her eyes and pushed herself up with some effort. "I'm up, now be a saint and get me some coffee."

"There's a pot over in the corner." Dean padded to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Good coffee, jerk."

Dean mumbled under his breath but he scooped up his jeans and pulled them up over his boxers. "Okay, I'm making a run then. Why don't you shower? You're stinkin' up the place."

When Dean returned from his breakfast run Sam took in the tension in his shoulders and the somber look on his face, and froze midway rubbing the towel through her hair. "Something happen?"

He placed the coffee and bag of breakfast tacos down before shuffling slowly sticking his hands in his pocket. "There was a robbery."

"Okay…what's the big deal about a robbery?" She picked up on rubbing her hair again.

"A robbery maybe about a building away from the cemetery. A pawn shop." Dean pulled one of the tacos out and tossed the foil wrapped breakfast to Sam. "Window was smashed in and a got taken was a wedding dress that they had on display in the window."

Sam stood up in shock readjusting the towel she had wrapped around her. "Wedding dress? You think-"

"That it's hers? I'm not certain, but I'm leaning towards that frame of thought." He bit into the taco with gusto, and didn't bother finish chewing before he continued. "I mean Ghost Bride plus missing wedding dress. Makes sense."

"Certainly does." Sam crouched and yanked out jeans and a shirt from her duffle. She met Dean's eyes and made a spinning motion with her index finger. Dean paused mid bite, and looked at his sister with a questioning stare. Sam sighed and tossed the cloths on the bed. "As in turn around. I'm planning on changing."

"You can do that in the bathroom!" Dean groaned, but turned around and faced the opposite direction.

Sam let the towel finally drop. She shimmied on her jeans content he'd look away while she changed. She gave a little gasp when the denim pressed up against her colorful bruise. Dean didn't turn but tensed.

"Your leg?" He bit out.

"Yeah but I'm fine." She continued dressing, and was intent on changing the topic. "Seeing as this dress that was stolen was only a few feet away from the cemetery maybe that was our center point. Maybe we were looking at this the wrong way."

"Yeah, but how long did this dress sit in the window shop?" Dean questioned his back to his sister.

xxxOOOxxx

They went to the station and asked for the chief. The cop manning the head desk was Sid, the kid they had questioned the day before along with his group of friends. This time instead of the suit, he was wearing his usual uniform. Sam didn't take too much offense when she had to remind the guy their names.

"Chief Snell is gone for the day. He had family business to attend to." Sid shrugged. "If there is an emergency I have a number to call, but I would prefer not to call him if it isn't an emergency…"

It was clear that she wasn't going to get the Chief in the office. "And that would be Cody Snell, right?" Sam felt a headache growing. "The Chief's full name I mean. Cody Snell."

"Yeah. Why-?" Sid looked clearly confused.

"Nothing. We also tried stopping by the pawn shop to see about getting some information on the robbery but it seems like you're not only finished investigating the site, but the owner is not at work." Sam said quietly.

Sid looked between the siblings. "We uh- were finished. Chief showed up to make sure the job got done correct and we packed up and let the shop owner go home. Why what does that have to do with the deaths?"

"We think there may be a tie." Dean didn't give the guy any firm confirmation. "So did you finish compiling a file?"

"Uh-yeah." Sid walked over to a drawer full of files and bent over to dig through them. "It was maybe about one in the morning, and they threw a metal trash bin through the windows."

"So they just took the wedding dress?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Sid opened a file of filled out forms and pictures. "I mean the guy has some decent rocks inside the shop. Some that could get much more cash, and they went straight for some wedding dress that could have been made in the 70's."

Dean glanced down at the pictures. "How long has the place been open?"

"Well the shop opened up sometime in the 90's. It used to be one of those dime shops. My friends and I would stop by and buy those glass Cokes." Once Dean cleared his throat Sid looked uncomfortable. "Sorry. Rambling."

"And who sold the dress and when?" Sam gave the guy a soft look. Someone needed to play good cop in this game.

Sid relaxed his gaze at Sam, and politely didn't linger his gaze on the colored side of her face. "Mitch says that he…" He dug through the file to find the report filled out. How Sid read the handwriting, Sam figured that to the man had written the chicken scratch himself. "…found the dress in the trash. Apparently he digs through the garbage to find a lot of what he sells. He found it- behind the Chinese place a few days ago. Thought he would make few bucks off of it. Man, was he pissed when someone swiped it, and shattered his window."

"When you say a few days ago…?" Dean stepped in.

"He found it about three days ago."

The day Robert Simmons had been ripped apart.

"Any security footage?" Dean thought back to when he'd stumbled upon the scene that morning. He'd flashed a badge, and peeked inside long enough to see a camera with a red blinking light.

The man shook his head. "Nope. Mitch doesn't have a working camera. Keeps one to give the appearance but really he's too cheap to have it turned on. Whoever broke in just got lucky."

Sam wasn't sure what to think anymore. The robbery seemed very physical and very human. Was Cynthia being controlled? Was it Cynthia? Despite all the facts pointing towards it, maybe it was something entirely different. Wouldn't be the first time that a case was masked to look like something, only to be something entirely else. She ran an irritated hand through her hair. "So, when can we expect Chief Snell?"

"He didn't give an exact time…" From the guy's tone Sam could tell that when he had left it had been under nervous air.

Dean let out a deep breath. "Does Snell have an address?"

"What is it you need to ask him?" Sid raised an eyebrow.

"Look." Sam took a deep breath. "Just tell Chief Snell that I have a few questions about the case. He's seen them in person, and we just want to pick his brain a little on the details. We just want to prevent future deaths."

Sid still appeared quizzical. "Sure. First chance I get."

The air had a bite of chill when the siblings exited the station. Sam jammed her hands in her pocket as she followed Dean to the car.

"So Cynthia gets pissed off when the dress gets tossed, or found for that matter…so she breaks her pattern and attacks on a different day?" Although a statement Sam posed it as a question.

"I don't know. I say we ask the Chinese restaurant it was found at. Maybe they have more information on it." Dean started the engine and turned his car off the curb and onto the street.

xxxOOOxxx

They didn't know anything. In fact, up until then, the restaurant had no idea that there had been an abandoned wedding dress in the dumpster out back. The only working lead they had was the kid who had spent an entire night in the cemetery listening to the horrible humming of the Cynthia Snell. The one the small group of friends outside the memorial service called Curly.

"The one who had released the animals in the zoo while painted up like a tiger." Dean reminded his sister as they stopped outside the kid's apartment. "Whatever he has to say, probably will not help our case in _any_ way."

Sam rolled her eyes and gave the door a firm knock. "Okay, so, why don't you drum up so other potential witnesses?" She smirked at her brother's sour face. "I'm not saying he isn't going to be crazy, but I am thinking that he may give us some clues as to what she wants, and how she was tied to the place."

"She wants people dead in general." Dean scowled.

"You are-" Whatever Dean was he would never know because the door was opened a crack. The chain connecting the door to the wall only allowed the man to peer out of the door crack. Sam gave a heavy intake, and even Dean had to take a step back at the intense stare in their direction. "Hi, my names Jan Meade-"

Before she could introduce her brother under his false name the man behind the door interrupted. "Did they send you? Are you here to help?"

"I'm sorry." Sam stated a little cautiously. "Who is _they_?"

"The shadow people." The man answered easily.

Sam stared straight at the man preferring his crazed eye contact, to her brother's I-told-you-so look. At least it was a change in what she was used to. "We have no association with the shadow people, but if you need protection, once we are finished-"

"Protection?" Curly gave a wild laugh. "I don't need protection from shadow people. The shadow people _are_ protecting me."

"Mr. Gemmmeltrope." Dean waved a hand getting his attention.

"It is G- _ah_ -mmel- _thrope_." Curly wildly motioned with his hands.

Just by the reaction alone it was apparent Dean wasn't the first one to screw up his last name. It was a weird last name. When they'd gotten the kids name he felt bad for the kid. Thaddeus Gammmelthrope. That was the kind of name that got your head in the toilet as the other kids flushed.

"Sorry, Gammelthrope." Dean corrected. "My partner was confused. The shadow people did send us. We just have a question about something that you experienced when you were younger. In the cemetery."

Curly widened his eyes at the mention. "Are you asking me about _her_? Are you here to protect me?"

"Yes, we're here to protect you from her." Sam stated hastily. "Please, just a few questions."

He eyed the two for a second before shutting the door. They waited patiently for the chain to shift off its hook before the door opened and the man named Curly (who didn't even have curly hair) reopened the door. A little too manically he gave a wide giggle and gestured inside. Dean walked in passed Sam and gave her a concerned glance. They had no idea what they were walking into. Monsters and demons were predictable but humans they were crazy and acted in unpredictable ways. The glare he gave his sister informed her that if they ended up dying by this maniac's hands, that he would find a way to come back to life, bring her back to life, and kill her all over again.

"Good good." Curly smirked wider and closed the door when Sam and Dean stepped inside. "I can make you some tea."

Sam glanced around the home. It must have been nice at one point. Save a singular strip on the wall that was a muted lilac, it was painted black. Everything was black. The furniture, the floor, the wall, and the ceiling were all black. "No, thank you." Sam stated quietly. She didn't want to try tea that he made. Lord only knew what secret things he would add. "You have an interesting decorative eye."

"When my parents passed away I was left their home. It was so, bright." He headed towards the kitchen anyways.

Dean notched up an eyebrow. "Yeah, too bright." His eyes landed on a few bottles that were discarded on a coffee table, covered in fast food wrappers, and newspapers. He read through a few of the names and his eyebrow rose incredibly higher.

Sam came when Dean waved her over. Ability, Zyprexa, Risperdal, Geodon, Paxil, Prozac, and Depakote. The best of anti-crazy medication, and from the looks of them he wasn't taking it.

"They make me tired." He entered the room again, a tray with three glasses of- something, and a tin sitting between them. He brushed everything off the table and put the questionable drinks and food on the coffee table.

Sam shot guiltily up from her crouched position. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, it's okay." The side of his mouth ticked though. "I don't like the way they make me feel. The doctors keep prescribing me stuff and I don't take it. Besides I can't hear the shadow people without them."

"Of course." Dean made his tone sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We understand. Now my partner and I just have a few questions about the cemetery." Dean made a face though when 'Curly,' who had very straight hair, opened a tin of ancient looking cookies. Maybe dear old mom had made them before her passing. "You were there one night and you got back at your friends, only they locked you in a mausoleum. Your friends say you heard the Ghost Bride."

Curly nodded. "I did. She didn't enter though, she just passed by humming that song. Actually she passed a few times, like she was pacing." He looked angry. "Nobody believed me though, not even my mother. But she soon found out just how right I was."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked quietly.

"She killed my mom. I told her that it was the night. That she shouldn't go walking, and she did. It's not my fault that she died." Curly shrugged and actually bit into a cookie.

Dean cringed and tried to focus his thoughts on what had just been said. "Your mother was Margerie?" He kicked himself after he'd said it. Of course. This year a Margerie Gammelthrope had been found dead. What chance was there that there was more than one Gammelthrope family in the town.

"Yes, and she shouldn't have gone out, but nobody pays attention to me." His eyes bugged a bit and he gave a spine tingling laugh. "Because Curly is crazy right, nobody listens to me."

He was crazy, but Sam didn't say anything. "Your right, she should have listened to you. You were very clearly right. How did you know though that she was the one causing the deaths?"

"Please." Curly scoffed loudly. "It occurred the very night the murder of the Ghost Bride's sister. Right around the cemetery, and each victim was killed with an axe. It doesn't take a moron to put that together. Then she kills only when she can. Three years before the first two deaths, then nine between the next set. Obviously she doesn't always have the opportunity to kill that she would like."

Despite him being a crazy nut, he was right on that front. She had to give him some credit.

He had to continue talking though. "I also warned her about bottled water."

Sam shared a confused look with Dean. "I'm sorry, about- bottled water?"

"They poison it. The government is trying to control the human population."

And now he was acting crazy again, she knew she was going to hear it from her big brother for the rest of the day. Great. "Back to the Ghost Bride, did you ever find out anything else on her?" Curly shifted his eyes between the two siblings, and Sam sighed rubbing a headache from her forehead. "I mean so that we can be better suited to protect you."

Curly shook his head. "I haven't come across anything else."

Sam dug her hand into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a card. "You find out anything else useful on her, call this number."

She walked towards the door Dean positioning himself behind her.

"Miss Meade?" The innocence in the tone was a sudden change. Sam held back her concern. "What happened to your face?"

Sam sighed and brought a hand to her face. She usually didn't resort to make-up, but maybe she would have to purchase a good thick base to cover up the discoloration. Bruises were much easier to conceal when they were covered by clothing. "I was working a case and the guy got the better of me."

A glint came to the guy's eyes and he cocked his head to the side. "I wonder then, if you cannot protect yourself Miss Mead, what makes you think that you can protect me?"

Sam wasn't so much put off by his dismissal of her abilities, she was more concerned with the stare. Luckily she didn't have to continue, Dean jumped in and battled for her. "If you think she looks bad then you should see the other guy."

 **(Reached the end? Like it even a little? Leave a review.)**


	4. Chapter Four

**(So short lesson about my past 5 years. Everything life shattering bad that has happened, has occurred mostly in July. So I can't explain it, the damn month comes around and I get this kind of anxiety (nothing medically required or anything, just a weird feeling) and I kinda shut down emotionally. July comes around and I just want to wrap myself and everything in bubble wrap because anything can and will happen. So, no I haven't posted. My muse seems to have been just as affected this time around. Once this month is over everything should be on a regular schedule again...**

 **Thanks ZeldaIsis for the review.)**

 **Chapter 4**

The group of kids ranged in height and age. The oldest two were fifteen, and the youngest was eight. The group of six kids all huddled next to each other as they took in the now partially cleaned up crime scene.

"So this is where he got torn up…" Whispered the oldest. "I heard his limbs were just thrown everywhere. He must have pissed her off."

One of the youngest stepped forward and tucked back a stray blond strand. "Who?"

"The Ghost Bride." The older boy grinned down at the little girl. She squeaked and jumped back.

"Jacob…" A boy, just a year older than the girl, matching his dark complexion gripped her hand and offered the girl comfort. "You don't need to scare her. Besides we shouldn't be here. They have a regular security guard pacing around the place. I don't need to get in trouble with my dad."

"Uncle Gerald will be fine." Jacob scoffed. "You should hear some of the stories my dad and him share. They did a whole lot more sneaking around than we ever do."

Martin the younger boy scowled and glared at his cousin. "If anyone catches us and we get in trouble I'm not only telling my dad, but Uncle Jamie that it was your idea."

"Shut up, or I won't let you join us anymore." Jacob snapped.

Martin snapped his lips shut. He knew the only reason he and his friend Stella were allowed to hang out with the _big kids_ was because of his cousin. "Look, let's just go throw rocks in the lake. That's what you said we'd be doing tonight anyways.

"This is just a stop." Max, the second oldest, and leader of the group smirked and shoved his way forward. He ducked underneath the tape and that gave a few members of the group courage enough to join him. "We'll get going as soon as I get a good look."

"Why?" Stella finally spoke out and tugged on Jacob's sleeve to make her appeal. "Mr. Simmons was a nice guy. My dad would have him over for dinner all the time with his boyfriend. You were one of his students and you thought he was a nice guy. We should just leave this place in peace."

Jacob's gaze softened towards the girl, but he characteristically jerked his sleeve away. "Whatever, this place is lame anyways. We should just go to the pond Max. At least we can see if we can spot Big Caesar. Uncle Gerald says that-"

"I don't give a fuck what your Uncle Gerald has to say about anything. Those stories he told you were just that. Stories…myths…legends. Nobody believes in that crap. At least not anymore." Stan scoffed as he stepped further in and eyed the blood stains. "At least smart people don't believe in that crap."

"Max…" A tall brunette girl about fourteen stepped forward and ducked underneath the tape. She walked forward barring the way and pointed back. Her scowl was enough to push back the two that had followed Max inside. She reached Max and jerked him back and spun him around. "Look. This is wrong. We should go. We humored you. We stopped by the place now let's go the pond."

"You are such a buzz-kill, Nina." Max growled and shoved her. She landed on the ground hard with a grunt. Something inside Jacob snapped and he went under the tape too offering a hand down to the girl. "All of you need to chill." Stan met Jacob's clearly angry eyes. "Simmon's was a gay fag who chose to screw around with men and get STD's."

"Look." Jacob released Nina as soon as he was sure she was okay. He poked a finger into Max's chest a little forcefully and couldn't hold back his growl. "It was a cool idea before to come see the scene, but now you're just acting like an asshole Max. The kid was right. Mr. Simmons was a cool guy and you know it. Just because your dad is a jerk doesn't mean you have to act like one."

"Screw off, Johanson." Max shoved Jacob, but Jacob was built just like his father wide and stocky. "If you don't want to be here, why don't you just fucking leave?"

"You know what. I am." Jacob didn't break eye contact, only once he spun around to leave. He waked back under the tape and held it up so that Nina could slip under it as well. "You spend all the time you need here, catch up with us when you stop acting like a dick!"

"Oh why don't you just blow it out of your-!" Max stopped as a voice lifted through the breeze. He rolled his eyes as the sounds of the Wedding March gently being hummed was suddenly audible. "Oh real mature. Ghost Bride is coming to get me, huh?"

The five in front of the tape exchanged looks. Nina was the one to talk. "It's not us."

"Someone using their phone?" Max snapped.

"Nobody is doing this, Max." Will, Nina's younger brother, finally spoke up. "Look. Let's just get out of here."

Stella messed with her fingers, and looked nervously around. "Yeah, this isn't fun anymore."

"She's not real." Max scoffed. "She's a legend. A story."

"A story I'd rather not confirm to be real or not." Jacob eyed the direction the sound was coming from.

"Chickens." Max laughed. He ducked under the tape and started walking in the direction towards the cemetery.

xxxOOOxxx

When Sam and Dean entered the hospital it didn't take too long to spot the chief and his two kids in the lobby of the hospital. They were amassed in a certain section of the hospital lobby with other parents and the children that must have been involved in the attack. The children must have just finished getting looked over because their parents were fawning over each kid, and a doctor and couple separated and stepped off toward the side.

Sam recognized five of the parents in the bunch. Arnold, and his scowling wife Helga were busy fawning over the youngest in the group of kids a blond girl. Sam's heart went to the girl. Gerald and the short Asian woman they'd met at the church where Simmon's memorial had been held, were tending to the youngest boy. The rest Sam didn't place. Until the father stepped off to the side with the doctor turned and met Sam's eyes.

She hadn't recognized Chief Snell without his uniform. All the man had done was slip a robe over his patterned pajamas. In fact, most of the parents were haphazardly done. Chief Snell put a hand on the assumed wife's arm and softly spoke into her ear before heading towards the siblings. Along the way he paused purposefully in front of the blond man named Arnold.

Both walked in front of the siblings, haphazardly done themselves, and the chief jerked his thumb towards the empty corner of the hospital. Sam exchanged a look with Dean. The formality they were presenting was worrisome, but Sam followed and Dean wasn't about to leave her alone with anyone he didn't know.

"So, _agents._ " Chief Snell rose an eyebrow and eyed them both. Sam and Dean knew that there was no doubt. He knew that those badges were fake. Dean was ready to bolt, and Chief Snell caught on. He raised his hands and tried to remedy the situation. "Look, you are not agents. I know that and you know that. Arnold though saved your ass. I checked in with the office, and they didn't send anyone to help. This ugly mug told me to talk to you that you-" He cleared his throat and looked as if he were about to spout something crazy. "That you _hunt things_. Dark things. Things that shouldn't exist."

Sam didn't look over at her brother. "And if we said that we did."

"I would still think I was crazy for buying into it." Chief Snell scowled.

Arnold crossed his arms. "The kids though. Think about-"

"I know. I heard the story, I got the story from them. My damn kid is in ICU right now thanks to the damn story, so don't you tell me what the kids told us." Snell's scowl didn't leave. He rubbed a hand across his face and calmed down though as he turned towards the siblings. "Look. Can you, or can you not help us? I swear that you will leave in cuffs if you screw with me."

Dean studied the Chief. "We are not agents, and we do help with…odd situations."

"Hunters." Arnold nodded.

"How do you…?"

Arnold cut Sam off. "Long story short the home I grew up in had a spirit. Someone came and payed up for a month and kept sneaking around. I confronted him and he told me what he was. What you are. I didn't believe him, but after he left the sounds that came from the basement was gone. I knew what you guys were the second you stepped up and I didn't say a damn thing hoping you'd just end the bloodshed."

"So you know we have some awkward questions for you." Sam stuck her hands inside her pocket and shifted her weight to her left foot.

"As in my sister." Snell scoffed lightly. "That's what the kids said. The Ghost Bride came up with her axe and tried to kill them. I can't live this crap down."

"You want help? Then we need to know." Dean notched up an eyebrow.

Snell snorted and looked like he was regretting this step. He would have felt much more comfortable cuffing the two and leading them off for pretending to be Federal Agents. "Okay, look I was the last one. When Cynthia was 10 years old my parents went on vacation and came back pregnant. I was 12 years old and so separated from my sisters that we lead different lives." He looked for a chair and heavily sat down. "What I did know was Cynthia was always kind of scary. She was the oldest and got her way in any situation. Cathy and I could never win against her." Snell gave a little laugh and tugged at his hair. Sam figured he was stressed about reliving the past. "Cynthia really loved Derek though. She brought him home to dinner when she was 20 and showed him off. My parents and Cathy thought he was a great guy. I thought he was a great guy, up until he showed her up at the altar."

"If Cathy married Derek the same day, then she couldn't have shown up either…" Sam offered.

Cody shrugged. "When Cathy didn't show, it wasn't too much of a shock. They fought all the time, and in fact had a huge fight the night before. To be honest I didn't really care. I didn't care about the wedding or any of the drama. I wanted to go the arcade that day. I couldn't wait for the event to be over."

"Any clues to their relationship or was it a surprise?" Dean questioned.

"Then, no. Hind sight though, yeah. Cathy and Derek became good friends; even went with him to get a suit. They spent a lot of time together in the name of planning Cynthia's wedding. Of course we all figured she was being helpful, but…"

"They had formed a connection…" Sam sympathized with him.

"It was so sneaky though. Cynthia may have been a-" He looked ready to censor himself but stopped. "No Cynthia was a bitch. There was no down playing that. Cathy shouldn't have gone behind her back though. What you want to know is the retaliation though right?"

"Knowing about her personality helps some, if she is indeed what we need to stop, but yes violence tends to affect them a lot more. Especially if they have traumatizing violence." Sam sounded like she was a professor in a lab.

Cody looked at her a little shocked but continued. "She uh- yeah. She found out about the marriage, and got mad. My parents tried what they could to calm her down, and they thought that it had worked. She stole the axe from the basement and well we got the call early morning that they were all dead. Mom and Dad were not the same afterwards."

"What happened to the dress?"

He looked up at Sam in surprise. "What?"

"Her wedding dress. It disappeared out of evidence lock up." Sam completed.

"Oh," He looked to Arnold wearily. "I took it. I hid it out in the cemetery with that damn axe."

"Where?" Sam questioned.

"There is this mausoleum that I would hide away in as a kid." He had the sense to look sheepish at that fact. "I was fourteen, still brooding over my sister's deaths and I went through a bit of a dark phase. I didn't make it much easier for my parents I'll admit. Anyways I knew that nobody visited it and there was a loose section where the tile could be pulled up. I buried the offending articles under the loose tiles." He didn't miss Dean's eyebrow sky rocket. It was shortly followed by the police chief sighing and awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't want people oogling over it, and I didn't want it in my home either. Didn't want to get caught with it, and it would feel…odd…to have those things that close to me. So I hid them where I found the most peace when I was dealing with it."

"We'll need to know which one." Dean slipped out a pad from his inner pocket along with a pen.

"Of course." Snell held out his hand and wrote down the details. "You really think she could be doing this?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged. "We haven't ruled her out yet. Something that will help us decide that is what the kids witnessed."

Arnold patted the chief's shoulders and offered to take this discussion. "Well they all pretty much agree that they were out when they shouldn't have been. They were being kids looking at Mr. Simmon's crime scene when they heard her humming. Max walked towards it and Jacob followed not wanting Max to get hurt. The rest followed because they were concerned."

"They wanted to see what was making the noise." Chief Snell snorted. "Nina and Will are rascals, and stick their nose into things they shouldn't. That's why she practically bled out." He caught himself before he could continue to rant. "Sorry. You continue."

"A woman wearing a wedding dress _appeared_ in the middle of the group and attacked Nina first." He looked sympathetically down at Chief Snell. "Jacob stopped the swing from killing her but cut himself in the process. Max told them all to run, and Jacob didn't want to." As he spoke he pointed to each corresponding child. "Jacob has a thing for Nina though…"

"I'll beat it out of him one day." Chief Snell inserted unhelpfully.

"So he picked her up and ushered the rest of the kids out, yelling for help all the while. She left them alone for a little while, but caught up once she-" Arnold stopped. "Well Max is dead, so he only distracted her for so long. Once they got far enough she stopped trying to follow. They even said she just stood there and watched them."

"How far did they go?" Sam shared a look with Dean.

"I'd say a mile." Arnold shrugged. "But I was more concerned with the safety of the kids than the distance they had gone."

"Any other injuries?"

"Nothing life threatening. Jacob got stitches. Martin, Will, and Allie all got some bruises. Stella got a sprained ankle, but the later are all from trying to get away. And Nina…" Arnold looked down comfortingly at Cody. "She's going to be fine. Paramedics were on the scene in record time and she made it to the hospital before she bled out. Doctor says a few pints of blood and maybe a few weeks in the hospital she should be released."

"Why Nina…" Sam asked.

"What?" Chief Snell looked up unamused.

Sam thought and reworded the question. "First person she attacked was your daughter. Does she resemble Cathy in any way?"

"I suppose. She got more than a few of the Snell features, and she got the same dark brown hair as my sisters. It's possible she could have gone for her first in anger." He thought a second on what he just admitted out loud. "God, I'm going crazy."

"We're going to look into this. If it is Cynthia she's going to move on I promise." Sam stated softly.

xxxOOOxxx

"Move on…" Dean snorted. "You sugar coated that for sure…"

Sam kept pace with her brother as they followed the instructions to the old mausoleum. "What was I supposed to say, Dean? _Oh your sister is damned to hell_. Yeah no. This is why I deal with the victims and their families and you shut your face."

"Please." Dean shoved his sister, but internally flared a bit of pride. She was excellent with people. Ever since she had been a little girl she had been so sympathetic for every damn living thing. And people seemed to pick up on that. When Sam was old enough to hunt, John had seen the use in having her when he would interrogate people. "We should be coming up on it." He shifted the duffle more comfortably on his shoulder. "Geeze who knew chief of police had been a little hoodlum breaking in cemeteries and hanging out in them."

"He was a teenager; his sister had killed his other sister. I'd say hanging out in a cemetery was actually pretty tame compared to what he could have done." Sam shrugged.

"Forget lawyer. You could have been some kind of councilor with all your sympathies."

"Oh shut up." Sam rolled her eyes. She sobered when she spotted the familiar words that the chief had scribbled on Dean's pad. "That it?"

"Yeah."

The mausoleum wasn't too big, but it was clear whoever had built it was made of money. It stood out from the rest of the other tombstones pretty vibrantly as it's marble shone in the sunlight. Sam's lips easily formed the familiar language carved about the entrance way in delicate writing. "Mors principium est."

"That shit I know. _Death is only the beginning._ " Dean couldn't suppress a shudder. "Creepy."

"Cemetery…Dean."

"I know. But when I die make sure my headstone says something witty. Like a limerick or something." Dean put the bag down and reached in for a crowbar.

"Writing was never my strong suit." Sam took the time Dean went through the bag to circle the structure. "I can put some references to legal terms on there. Or binary."

"Lame." Dean frowned.

"Whatever, you try memorizing all that legal jargon." Sam was coming back around.

"Please, you probably did it easy. And besides, anything school related, you had no weakness. You were damn AP on everything. Now it did take you a long time to master the crossbow." Dean pointed the crowbar curved end towards her.

Sam rolled her eyes. "You sure we even need the damn crow bar." She walked to the door and experimented on tugging at it.

"Chief says he sealed it shut in order to protect the items."

"Yeah but if-" Sam felt the door give, if not a little. Problem was the door hadn't been opened in some time, and plants tangled and blocked the door from opening up wider. "Someone must have gotten in if they possibly took the dress." She felt her brother join her and with their combined strength they shifted the heavy marble door open. She clapped the dirt off her hands. "See."

"Smart ass." Dean shoved her out of the way and un-pocketed the flashlight. Inside wasn't as pretty. Light only filtered through some artsy glass windows. It was clear nobody had dusted in a while and plant life in the form of vines had found their way inside, the stalks and leaves had weaved around along the floor and the dirty legs holding up two dirty marble displays, boasting artifacts from a different time period. Half of the room was divided up with a wall. The plaques displayed with names and dates showed that behind the wall was the family that had paid for this grand display.

Dean didn't jump when Sam joined him inside the pack slung over her shoulder. "You forgot this…"

"Maybe it was your turn to hold it this time."

"Jerk." Sam smirked.

"Bitch…" Dean completed. He glanced around. "You see the disturbance in the dirt at the entrance."

"Yeah, someone was here. Pretty recently too." Sam let her eyes rove around the building. "Okay let's look for a loose tile."

It wasn't too hard to find. Dean practically stumbled upon it. When lifted they found the area dug up and disturbed. Sam lifted up a material that once had been white but now shredded and muddy. She couldn't pull it entirely out though. Once it was a mere foot off the ground the perceived sleeve of the dress ripped and Sam was left holding a piece of it.

"I'd say the years haven't been kind."

"Understatement." Dean echoed. "So what…the dress just sat here and because it was in the cemetery it was the focal point for Snell's spirit. She just killed anyone passing by the cemetery on an August 5th night? Then the unscheduled death…"

Sam rubbed at her jaw, and Dean instantly saw her discomfort. When they got back to the motel room he'd made sure to shove a few pain pills her way. After they ate of course. "Maybe the person is controlling her from here…"

"How?" Dean glanced around and couldn't find any kind of altar. There wasn't anything that gave any clue to the typical spells that controlled spirits. "And who- who came in to this singular building, found the loose tile and dug to find the wedding dress?"

"I don't know." Sam stood back up the tattered piece of dress still in her hands. "I'm more concerned with the robbery. If the dress is here, which one was stolen from the shop?"

"Coincidence…?"

"In our line of work? She got thoughtful. "And what about the axe? Cody said he buried it with the dress. Is it"

Dean gently shifted the dress to the side and felt the indent in the dirt that was appropriately axe shaped. "I'd say no. Unless you've found it."

Sam started prodding around the many corners of the structure. "It's not out in the open." She started testing the ground for any more loose tiles.

She turned in circles as she tested each spot and Dean dug a bit more down in the dirt with his hands to see if he could spot anything else in the ground and dislodge the dress. Sam looked up when she heard her brother hum in interest.

"Find something?"

"Yeah. It looks like-"

Whatever it looked like he wasn't able to get out. He looked up in time to dodge a hastily thrown kitchen knife. The blade clattered to the ground and Dean fell back on his butt in reaction to his movement. The sibling's eyes were drawn towards the entrance to the mausoleum. A figure, haloed by light, stood in the entrance and they wore a wedding dress. Sam put her hand back for her weapon. Dean had mothered her to replace her rounds for iron and she was grateful he had.

The figure raised its arm and flung another blade towards Dean. Dean scrambled up and dodged again his own hand going for his weapon, but his feet tangled on the vines crossing the ground and he fell forward. He brought his hand up to stop his fall, but didn't anticipate being so close to the marble display. His head made contact on the way down.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in shock as she watched her brother's eyes flutter close and he didn't stop his body from the rest of his fall. She couldn't stop the hard force it took when he landed. Not that Sam could have, with the threat she had other things to worry about. She squeezed off a round at the ghost in the doorway and it moved to avoid the shot, only it didn't avoid it. The bullet grazed the ghost's arm and drew blood. Her breath hitched. How could it draw blood, and not disperse the spirit…unless. The _ghost_ let out a grunt of pain and backed out of the doorway. Sam moved to follow, but in a burst of strength the _ghost_ grunted and in a smooth movement lifted and shut the door. Sam bumped into the now closed door.

She collected her breath and spun to offer her brother a worried glance. _Danger first, injuries second._ Only with the door closed potential danger was lower, and their "ghost" was certainly frightened from their exchange. She fought back the fear that he would come back with a more efficient weapon and abandoned the door heading to her downed sibling. With the rise and fall of her brother's chest she could tell he was still alive and breathing. A pretty nasty injury on his head but breathing. The rattle of a chain broke her thoughts.

Ignoring the person was unavoidable now. She was up and at the door now showing it open. Only it stopped giving. It opened just enough for her finger to fit through and through the crack she saw part of a chain link, and the edge of a padlock. Bastard had effectively locked them in. Wrapped the area of the structure and padlocked it. She gave an irritated shriek and slammed her palm on the door.

"No!" She huffed out a breath to calm herself. No point in panicking, she had an unconscious, clumsy brother to deal with.

 **(Hey you liked it leave a review or drop me a PM. Notice something out of place or spelled wrong, feel free to help me out. Thanks!)**


	5. Chapter Five

**(Thanks to TheGFGossiper, and ZeldaIsis for reviewing!)**

 **Chapter Five**

" _And you call my ass clumsy…"_

Dean swam in darkness. A fresh pounding pulsed and he couldn't suppress a groan.

" _Hey! You waking up?"_

God! Why couldn't she just let him be. Let him relish in the calm and quiet of darkness. Why couldn't his sister give him one second of peace.

"Lemmie 'lone." Dean grunted.

"Will not." He felt his sister's hands on his face. "Wake up."

She was bleeding concern so he did the impossible and forced his eyes opened. Almost immediately he shut them and uttered another loud groan. "Hurts…"

"Yeah, that's because you're a clumsy moron." She admonished harshly.

That intensified his need to let her know he was okay. She only became motherly when he had done something stupid and gotten himself injured. The amount of pain he was in; it was entirely likely he had done just that. "What I do?"

Sam tightened her grip on her brother and helped him sit up. She propped him up against the leg of the display and sat back. "You tripped over your big feet, knocked yourself out on the way down."

"Did I look cool doing it?"

"No, you looked stupid." She muttered. She pressed a bandage to his head and taped it in place.

Dean didn't stop her. He watched her bite her lip as she sat away. "How long was I out?"

"Thirty minutes. Long enough for me to know we are not getting out of here without any outside help." She sat up and eyed the windows.

"You call anyone?" He drummed up a random memory of the chief pressing his phone number into his palm. They had put the number into their phones very soon afterwards.

Sam eyed around the building and stood up. She paced the short space allotted. "Reception is fuzzy at best. The rare calls that did go through I only heard every other word, so I don't know if Chief Snell heard anything I even said."

His hand raised to his head. "Hey, you okay."

"Yeah." Sam said softly. "I just can't stand the fact I let us get locked in here. I should have forced the door open before he freaking padlocked us in. I forgot rule number three. Safety over injury. You can always go back and check on the person injured and-" She tugged at her loose hair. "Gah!"

"Hey, I would have checked on you." Dean consoled.

"No, you and dad would have just rushed on to get the person, and not stopped at go." Sam grunted.

"Person?"

She looked back down at Dean. "After you went down I fired an iron round at her. She moved but I did get her. Grazed her arm. Only she didn't disappear and she bled. I caused them pain."

"Great." Dean began collecting himself and fought for more control. He smacked his dry mouth. "Think it's a woman?"

"I don't know. It sounded like a man and moved like one." Without prompt Sam dug in the duffle and produced a canteen for her brother.

Dean twisted off the cap and took a long drink of the warm water. He didn't like the thinness of her lips as she did her best to study everything in the room except for him. She was being too hard on herself. The topic needed to be changed. She needed to know she wasn't trying to solve this alone. "What have you tried." Dean grunted pushing to his feet.

Sam came behind her brother to support him as he rose. "I shouted through the small crack offered, but got nada. I was going to try to break the glass, but hadn't gotten there yet."

"You just said we wouldn't fit." Dean swayed and held a hand to his head.

Sam let him wobble but was braced to help if he were to fall. "Our voices would carry a little more, if Cynthia has anything to do with those deaths the last place I want to be is in the cemetery where her killing range is."

"That I second." Dean righted himself and took an unsteady step forward. He paced for a second before he was fully collected. He eyed his surroundings and noted the ring of salt surrounding the hole and the area of the room. "You got a lot done while I was out."

"Someone had to work while you took a princess nap."

Dean scoffed lightly but grimaced with the simple motion. "Please, it's more like a bad ass, muscle car, rock n' roll nap; with laser lights and hot babes."

"Suure." Sam rolled her eyes but he accomplished what he was attempting. A slight grin had curled her lips upward. She had been worried and stressed the last thirty minutes. She had considered every potential step the siblings could take to get out of this situation. Now there were two heads and not one. She shouldn't have to shoulder all that by herself.

Sam wasn't completely off her guard but Dean could see her shoulders droop a bit in relief that her brother was walking, talking, and joking. That only aided in improving his own mood. If Sam was okay, he was okay.

Dean watched as his sister stretched up and brought the handle of her gun up to smash the narrow glass window along the top of the ceiling. He almost regretted the action. The image on it was nice and casting a colorful light in the building, it was a shame to break.

"So what did you find?" Sam questioned as she broke the glass and shielded herself from the falling glass. She didn't need to look back to know her brother was confused. "Before your awesome nap you said you had found something."

His eyes darted back to the hole. "I forgot."

Sam chuckled, but continued to destroy the window. "I understand."

It came back in a blur, but Dean crouched painfully and dug around the hole for the item he had found before almost stupidly knocking himself out. His hand finally brushed a small white tablet that had been covered in a fine layer of dirt. He held it up almost victoriously. "Here it is. I must have dropped it back in."

Sam lowered both arms and tucked the gun back in her waistband. She was careful to brush the broken glass that had fallen in to the corner of the room, before heading back to her brother. The item was pinched in his fingers, so Sam held out her palm and he dropped it into her hand.

"Lilly." She stated out loud as she read the lettering on the tablet. "That's just the manufacture."

"What do you want to bet its anti-crazy medication?" Dean grinned wide.

"Or thyroid, heart medication, prostate medication...it could be a number of things." Sam could feel irritation build up in her older brother. "I'm not saying it isn't him. I'm just saying that we should double check before we start kicking in doors. I do think Curly has something do with this. Dude was way too creepy the other day."

"Fair enough…" Dean grunted. He patted down his pockets. "You lift my cell phone?"

Sam slipped her own hand in her pocket. "Yeah, tried yours after mine was freaking out." In one smooth move she flipped the phone upward and Dean caught it on its downward arch. "If you're going to try and call out reception is bad on both."

"While you're busy screaming out desperate cries for help I'll see if I can't send out a few messages myself. Maybe I can get a hold of the chief and imply we need some help." Dean cued up his phone and duly noted that the power bar was halfway down. If he didn't get some help soon he'd be caught with no cell reception in some creepy mausoleum. More importantly Sam would be caught in there. That he was not prepared for.

Sam wrinkled her nose. "Sure…desperate…"

xxxOOOxxx

About thirty minutes in Sam's throat was hoarse and Dean had exhausted all efforts on his phone. His sister hadn't lied when she said reception was fuzzy. He'd called the chief and gotten maybe a few of the guys words to know he was concerned, but besides that he wasn't sure what the guy had said or if he had received the message he was trying to put out. An hour later he'd tossed up the canteen to his sister who had paused to cough into the sleeve of her button up.

He made mental note to put a kettle on and boil some of the girly tea that she had packed away in the pockets of her duffle. Her throat would need it.

The sun's fading rays filtered through the broken window and that concerned the both of them however. If they didn't get out, would Cynthia come after them?

"Heyy!" Sam lifted her head from the canteen and shouted again. "Please tell me someone is out there."

Dean didn't hear anything but he saw his sister's shoulders stiffen. He pushed up from his seated position (where Sam had told him to park his clumsy ass) and called out cautiously to his sister. "Hey, you hear someone?" Someone being the main point in the question. Not some homicidal spirit.

Sam looked over from her position on top of the display case looking out the window. "Yeah, I heard footsteps, and I think…" She strained her hearing, ", I swear I heard my name…"

Dean listened and sure enough it was faint but he heard an echoing call. "I think I hear them too."

"Chief Snell? Arnold?" Sam called out again. They were the only ones who knew what they were, and where they were planning on going that day. "Please tell me that's you." She relaxed when she saw Chief Snell come up over the rise of the hill and look at the building.

He gave a firm shake of his head at the sight of the padlocked building and the broken glass that littered the space outside. "Some hunters you are."

"We got locked in." She explained needlessly. "I can't tell for sure but I'm sure the whole place is surrounded by a length of chain and locked in place."

"Tell me something I don't know." Chief Snell smirked and jogged the rest of the distance his hand looping around the padlock. "Any of you have-"

Sam was already hands deep in her pocket looking around for a pick kit. "-Pick kit."

"I was going to say a paper clip, but thanks…" He went to the side of the building and let Sam drop the kit into his hands. He offered a raised eyebrow for the fact they had it but didn't linger on it. The next second he was back to the padlock and busy taking out the items he needed. "I'm making this quick. The rate of deaths occurring around this place I don't want to be here any longer than I need to be."

"Neither do we…" Sam said softly. Her mind drifted to the white tablet. "I gotta know, you didn't take anything or have taken anything medication wise right?"

"No…" He didn't look up from his work on the padlock. "Refused the sedating drugs when my parents thought it would help me cope. What helped me cope was actually damn coping with it. Why?"

"We found a white tablet in the dirt where you had buried her things. If it isn't yours it belongs to the person who dug it up." She drifted back to situation at hand. "You get our calls?"

"Yeah, they were every other word but I got the idea you were in a situation. I tried thinking of areas in town where I knew reception was shit and that lead me here." The lock sprung open and he threaded it out. Dean helped push the door as Chief Snell pulled. "Arnold is hanging outside the place in an idling car. In case shit goes down we can make a quick getaway."

Sam jumped down from her perch and scooped up the bag. She stuck around long enough to stick the canteen, and med kit back in. Dean helped usher her out. "I want to stop by Curly's and see where he's been today."

Snell took up a quick jog and paced with the siblings towards the entrance to the cemetery. "He do that to you?"

"I don't know. Someone, and I mean a person attacked us inside and locked us in." Sam ignored the jostling of the bag on her shoulder. "I shot and drew blood, so it wasn't a spirit."

"You think they've been killing these people rather than a spirit?" Snell sounded almost hopeful that it was a human factor and not a supernatural factor.

"I don't know for sure…" Sam stated softly. "It could very well be a person. I don't put that past anyone. However, someone could be summoning and controlling her too. Just worn the dress to cover up their identity. There's just too many questions that we don't have answers for."

"You said her things were dug up?" Snell huffed out a breath as he kept up with the Winchesters.

Sam didn't offer the man a look, she simply glanced around the cemetery and studied shadows that were growing long in the lowering sun. "Just the axe. The dress is still there, being in the ground unprotected hasn't done it well, but it's still there more or less. Why you've grown an attachment?"

Chief Snell snorted and followed the Winchester's in over analyzing their surroundings. "Damn thing can rot for all I care. Previous chief of police would parade her things around and show off the dress from the shunned killer bride. He wasn't prepared for when it disappeared out of lock up. It's far better for the damn thing to rot."

Neither Winchester commented tactfully, they kept pace towards the entrance to the cemetery. The sound of humming only intensified their pace.

"It's her?" Sam glanced at Cody registering the grim look he wore.

"Certainly sounds like her…" His face was paling but he kept up. "Although I'd prefer not to stick around and see if it is."

"That I second." Dean grunted. The gate was visible and Dean picked up his own pace itching to be gone.

"Dean!" Sam blurted. Sam reached out and gripped the collar of her brother's jacket and yanked him out of the way. Sam brought up her weapon and saw Dean bring up his own despite his stumble back. At the gate a veiled bride had misted up from the spot by the gate. Sam didn't hesitate and fired at the same time as her brother both their iron rounds sailing through the air and going straight through her. She broke apart.

"Cynthia!" Snell stopped, slow to register the threat, but able to determine her details before her image dissipated. "Christ, that was- she's actually- I can't-"

" _Can't_ once we are outside of her range of attack." Dean grunted gripping the chief's shirt and dragging him forward into a run. When the chief stumbled and nearly fell, Dean righted him and gave him a good push forward. "Collect yourself Chief! Unless you want to meet her axe."

The chief shook out of his shock and rushed forward finding his footing and moving forward. Sam was already ahead of them the gate open and ready and let it close once they were through. Arnold sat on the opposite side of the street engine going face twisted in worry. He had the passenger door to the car opened and Chief Snell slid in.

Dean hesitated this time stopping at the car while Sam threw open the backseat. "Baby is in the alley way, just a few-"

"And we have no clue what Cynthia is tied to, or where our mystery person is. Get in the damn car and we'll get her back in the morning." Sam glared at her brother.

"Sam!" Dean blurted.

Sam scowled and raised her gun, Dean didn't register her as a threat just ducked down. Her shot went over his head and he looked back in time to see fading smoke. She stepped to the right and allowed the backseat of Arnold's car to become visible.

"Fine!" Dean growled and dived for the backseat.

xxxOOOxxx

No matter how many times they had knocked no one had shown up to answer the door. Sam wasn't certain but she wasn't sure if the guy wasn't already gone or if he wasn't answering on purpose. Sam glanced down at her phone once it buzzed urgently in hand. She flipped it opened and read the text she'd received from her brother.

' _Don't see anyone exiting.'_

It confirmed her fear, he was holed up inside or gone. She typed quickly absorbing the lack of neighbors in the area. _'Enter?'_

' _Enter.'_ Dean confirmed.

Sam slipped the kit from her pocket and set to unlocking the door. She was slipped inside gun at the ready in a matter of seconds. She paced slow and steady, her senses high and alert as she regarded the area for any danger. She met up with Dean in the kitchen as he entered from the screen door leading out back. He motioned her towards the closed door to the master room and gestured himself upstairs. Sam only nodded and headed for the bedroom. No one was inside and the bedroom was a wreck. The walls painted black, including the bathroom that had once sported a sky blue. Even the clouded glass of the shower painted over. Dean met her when she was midway up the stairs.

"Empty." He stated needlessly.

"Same." Sam echoed.

"I was right though. The tablet led back to Crazy Curly." Dean put the gun back in the waist of his pants.

"And I didn't say anything but we should check it out." Sam rolled her eyes. Her eyes roved around as she inspected the area of the room as she paced down the stairs. The gun remained in her hand. "Something is clearly missing though."

"Yeah, I feel that too." Dean stated slowly as he glanced around himself. "What could we be missing though…" Dean's eyes ended on a wide bookshelf that was awkwardly placed under the staircase. He cocked her head as she walked forward and looked down at the ground. He gave a sharp whistle and when his sister glanced down at the marks her eyes narrowed.

"Didn't see that before…" She kept her voiced low.

"Yeah," With a grunt Sam pulled and Dean pushed and the bookshelf was shifted to reveal a door. "Basement?"

"When is it ever not?" Dean pulled his gun free again once the knob was tested and turned easily under his hand. "Stay up here." Dean kept his voice low too but he huffed a breath when Sam opened her own lips to argue his order. "We got caught together in a damn tomb. I'd rather not get both of us stuck somewhere we need damsel saving."

"Fine, call when you find something…"

"What happened to your _innocent until proven guilty_ stance yesterday?" Dean smirked and twitched up an eyebrow.

Sam rudely motioned at her brother. "Just go down into the creep basement, generic teenager."

"Twist, I was the murder the entire time…" Dean smirked and lead with his gun and flashlight.

"Geeze you're a regular Shyamalan…" Sam rolled her eyes.

Dean paused in the doorway. "Who?"

"M. Night Shyamalan, well known director who puts _unique_ plot twists in his movies…" Sam perked up an eyebrow. "Have you seen a movie in the last four years."

"Yeah, caught Mad Max on the TV a week ago." Dean took the stairs carefully as he went down.

"From this decade…" Sam deadpanned to herself. She listened to her brother make the stairs creak as he went down one at a time, and once she stopped hearing them she tensed. Sam listened carefully for her brother's footsteps as he walked what seemed to be the short length of the basement. There was a click and dim light filtered up from the stairs.

"Clear." Dean called up. "You gotta see this shit!"

Sam snatched three of the less interesting slim books and crammed two in between the hinges of the door and one underneath to help keep it open. Only then did she follow her brother down. And was it a sight.

If Curly had wanted to make the case easy- well he had. Painfully easy.

An altar with a bit of the material torn from the frayed dress was used as a table cloth, and there was blood spilled on a good portion of the white material. Sam hoped it wasn't human; or animal for that matter. What really sealed Curly's crazy was the pictures. One of Robert Simmons with his hands tucked firmly in the pockets of a trench coat and walking down the street. Another of his face up close in a wide grin, they had been _x'_ d out in the same blood red. Next to it Nina in her group of friends looking mischievous. Then a solo picture of Max, the kid who'd gone that morning, as she pressed ear buds in. He too was x'd out.

"She's being controlled. Curly is getting rid of people he doesn't like, but why these two?" Sam was carefully inspecting the altar.

Dean let out a low whistle and lifted up a mole skin book he had found sitting on the altar. He carefully flipped a page to glance at the back. "It lists quite a few people he has beef's with. Simmon's was 'infected with too much light. As a teacher he loved every one of his students, except me. Denied me of my dodgeball rights in the 4th grade.'"

" _Dodgeball rights_? Simmon's was killed over a few dodgeballs?" Sam felt irritation creep up inside. "What were the kids attacked for, spending too much time on the computer?"

"Max repeatedly harassed him. Called him creepy, crazy. Threw a rock in the window and was dragged away by his friends before he could do it again." Dean almost felt bad for the guy, _almost._ "Our ghost could have deviated from Max to the Chief's kid when she saw the family resemblance."

"Suddenly her will broke through and she was able to do what she wanted, rather than what he wanted…" Sam expanded the theory. "So what's he doing to control her anyways? Chant? Amulet?"

"I don't know, but it's not smart to play around with stuff like this, it can rebound pretty easily." Dean flipped through pages of other grievances and pictures. "Geeze this guy has a list for everyone." Dean looked up from the book to find his sister crouched under the small altar. "You find something?"

"Yeah, and I bet a set of pictures are missing from a person." Sam's voice was slightly muffled.

"Uh, there is one and it's-" Dean flipped through careful that the pictures didn't slip from the little pockets he'd applied.

Sam popped up. "Arnold…Arnold Shortman."

Dean paused on a page with Arnold's name written in overly neat writing. "Yeah…"

"Because on his way out he dropped this…" Sam flipped the picture the image up. A casual image of Arnold heading down the street pressing a scarf closer to his face.

Dean tucked the picture into the book and Sam whipped out her phone, heading straight to contacts filed under A.

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